


The Royal Beauty

by ConnorProject2K17



Category: Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: Bilingual, Breast ironing, F/M, I am so sorry, Olympics, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnorProject2K17/pseuds/ConnorProject2K17
Summary: Human! Penguins of Madagascar.Julien's life is somewhat sadder than the penguins give him credit for.(also Julien is so underrated)





	1. Julien, don't pretend you don't know exactly what you're doing.

Julien watches as the Skipper paces up and down the hallway, muttering curses underneath his breath. Or at least, he watches what he thinks he can see from the small gap in the doors of the closet. A large wardrobe was placed against the wall opposite the stairs, giving Julien the perfect opportunity to climb inside whenever he wanted and spy on his neighbours.

The shorter man stops, he turns his head towards the closet, and for a terrifying moment Julien thinks that Skipper's spotted him. But no, he just shakes his head and continues pacing. Julien lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Then the door at the end of the hallway, the one where the soldiers live, slams open and Julien jumps in alarm, making him hit his head on the coat rail. He rubs his perfectly quaffed hair gently, looking for a bump, quietly swearing in his native language.

"Fils de pute."

But his attention is drawn away when he hears some commotion outside. From what he can hear, the smarty-pants tall soldier has made some sort of serum. That was what Skipper was pacing for.

"Kowalski I command you, as your leader and friend, DESTROY THAT BLOODY THING NOW!" he yells, the vein in his head throbbing dangerously. There's a gasp and a whimper, though Julien can't tell if it's from Kowalski or the cute, short soldier.

"Never! Skipper, you don't understand what this could do to our bodies!" Kowalski tells him, sounding a bit put-off.

"Don't know, don't

Julien watches as the Skipper paces up and down the hallway, muttering curses underneath his breath. Or at least, he watches what he thinks he can see from the small gap in the doors of the closet. A large wardrobe was placed against the wall opposite the stairs, giving Julien the perfect opportunity to climb inside whenever he wanted and spy on his neighbours.

The shorter man stops, he turns his head towards the closet, and for a terrifying moment Julien thinks that Skipper's spotted him. But no, he just shakes his head and continues pacing. Julien lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Then the door at the end of the hallway, the one where the soldiers live, slams open and Julien jumps in alarm, making him hit his head on the coat rail. He rubs his perfectly quaffed hair gently, looking for a bump, quietly swearing in his native language.

"Fils de pute."

But his attention is drawn away when he hears some commotion outside. From what he can hear, the smarty-pants tall soldier has made some sort of serum. That was what Skipper was pacing for.

"Kowalski I command you, as your leader and friend, DESTROY THAT BLOODY THING NOW!" he yells, the vein in his head throbbing dangerously. There's a gasp and a whimper, though Julien can't tell if it's from Kowalski or the cute, short soldier.

"Never! Skipper, you don't understand what this could do to our bodies!" Kowalski tells him, sounding a bit put-off.

"Don't know, don't care. Rico?" There's an ugly retching noise, and a scarred hand gives Skipper a chainsaw.

'Oh please,' Julien criticises to himself, 'how would a chainsaw get rid of a serum? You should have just thrown it away.'

But Skipper, thankfully, didn't hear Julien and starts up the chainsaw, making his way out of Julien line of view and presumably towards Kowalski.

"Skipper, no!" Kowalski screams. There's the sound of thudding footsteps, and a slamming door. The chainsaw's turned off.

 "Damn it, we almost had 'im." Skipper grumbles, and then probably gives the chainsaw back to Rico, because there's a gagging nose, and then someone swallows.

The (probably) three remaining soldiers have a quick discussion amongst themselves, too quiet for Julien to hear. He leans further against the cupboard door, before it breaks under his weight and throws itself open. Julien lands against the floor with a *thump*, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the pain.

"Ringtail!" Skipper shouts, and something heavy is hit against his ribs. Julien groans loudly, and rolls over clutching his side.

"Err, Skipper?" The Private asks, sounding concerned. "Maybe we shouldn't kick him. It looks like he's in a lot of pain."

There's a grunt, and a what sounds like them stepping back. Julien blinks slightly, trying to push back the tears that are threatening to spill, before opening his eyes wearily.

The three soldiers are standing over him, in their usual suits and orange shoes. Skipper's watching him with disgust and anger, no different form usual then. Private's looking worried, holding his hands against his chest in worry. And Rico just looks confused.

Ignoring the pain, which feels like a dozen punches to his ribcage, Julien leaps to his feet and beams wildly.

"'ello flightless birdy's." He grins, fighting the urge to hold his side. That kick will definitely leave a bruise. Skipper's eye twitches in annoyance.  

"For the last time Ringtail, a penguin is a rank in the army!" Private shuffles forward uncertainly.

"Um, I don't mean to be rude Julien. But shouldn't you know that? You being a king and all?" Skipper and Rico high-five each other, as if he's just thought up the sickest burn ever.

"Yeah, Ringtail! Shouldn't you know that?" Skipper leers, and Julien feels his hand curl into a fist.

"Ha ha, of course!" he fixes his crown back onto his head where it was slipping. "We just have different names for them."

Skipper rolls his eyes, like he's some kind of idiot.

'Because it's not like I speak another language or anything, is it?!' Julien thinks angrily, but pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind.

"Well flightless birds," he enjoys watching Skipper splutter in disbelief, "It has been fun, but I have to go now!"

He almost gets away, if not for Private's inquisitive nature.

"Err, Julien?" He asks, and the king skids to a halt, just beside the stairs.

'So close.' "Yes, small one?"

Private looks down at his feet, and clears his throat. Julien just taps his fingers impatiently against the banister.

"What were you doing in the cupboard?" Julien stiffens slightly, and he grips the banisters tightly.

"Wh- I was- err-" He stumbles over his words, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn't sound as creepy as 'I was spying in you because your lives are way more interesting than mine.'

"I was doing the yoga!" He declares, and for a moment it looks like they're not going to buy it.

Julien saunters over, purposely putting in some extra swivel in his hips, and stands by the cupboard. He places one hand on the side and, with little difficulty, bends over to touch his black-painted toes. He holds that pose for a second, before he sees Skipper morale start to break, and the bossy bird leans over, checking out Julien's short clad booty.

"But thanking the Sky Spirits," Julien stood back up, placing one hand on his hip provocatively. "I am out of the closet now."

Skipper blushes profusely, while Rico laughs behind him. Private just looks confused.

"What does-" he begins to ask, before Skipper slaps a hand over his mouth.

"Nothing! He doesn't mean anything!" He shouts, as if yelling will distract him from Julien's sultry gaze.

"Well, Bubye silly birds." and he turns and saunters away, like a model on a catwalk. Skipper doesn't even stop to correct him.

Julien walks up the remaining stairs until he's out of eyeshot, and sprints the rest of the way up to the highest floor. His smile vanishes as he runs, like a lightbulb being switched off. And when he gets to his door, he slams it shut behind him, and escapes into his room, careful to turn the 'Do Not Disturb' sign around.

Julien slides down against the door, until he's sitting cross-legged on the carpet. He sighs loudly and places his head in his hands.

That wasn't the first time he's had to use his sexuality to get him out of something.

 


	2. Avert your eyes, children!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, this has some violent implications.

Breast ironing, also known as breast flattening, is the pounding and massaging of a pubescent girl's breasts, using hard or heated objects, to try to make them stop developing or disappear. This is something that happens to all of women in Julia's village, done by their mothers to stop them being too sexy, and to prevent the chances of rape.

And being princess, Julia was no different.

She remembered it clearly. One of her servants coming towards her with a wooden pestle, as she sat rooted to the spot in her golden seat. Never had a throne been so much like an electric chair.

He held the pestle in his hands, staring learishly at her chest, and she covered herself with her arms crossed. To no avail, the man did not stop.

And that's when it hit her, he was a man! A hormonal, sex-addicted man!

With an idea planted firmly in her mind, Julia stood up from her throne, and walked towards him. She'd seen the art of male seduction many times at the lavish parties she had thrown. But this was her first time trying it for herself.

So she turned around just in front of him, and bent over. Struggling not to squeal with pain, she touched her toes with shaking fingers, and wiggled her hips slightly.

It hurt like Hades, as her waist felt like it would snap in half any second, but her message had gotten across. The servant had seen her attempt at seduction, and was presumably pleased with it, by the way he was caressing her skirt.

When Julia stood up and turned around, she stood on her tip-toes and whispered smoothly in his ear, with promises of sex and lust later that night. While he was listening to her in disbelieving silence, she carefully took the pestle from his shaking hands, and slipped it behind her back.

That night, she ordered for that servant to be executed.

She was twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to apologise


	3. This is getting heavy for a POM fanfic...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get some, Clemson!  
> Actually no, don't.  
> Go die in a fire, Clemson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has some underage-shit going down, so be warned.  
> Also, swearing.

It is within any princesses duty to find a mate, someone they can share their responsibilities with, and help take charge of the country.

And by 'mate', they mean someone who can fuck you senseless, while spending your money.

And that was how Julia found herself practically tied to her throne, watching jewellery-smothered couples waltz before her, flanked by soldiers either side of her.

"Uuurrgh!" she groaned, and kicked her legs impatiently. This dance was taking forever! How long was it until she could leave and go shopping?

One of the soldiers heard her (not surprising, she wasn't trying to be subtle), and glared coldly into her amber eyes. She glared back just as hard, and he turned away.

"Your majesty," a voice said. "why not try dancing with one of your suitors? It might make your night less boring." Julia turned, and saw a young, chubby man smiling encouragingly at her. She huffed in annoyance.

"No Maurice, that won't help!" she spat. His smile didn't fade.

"But, look at all those men down their. Princes and dukes have come from all over the globe just to see you." he indicated to the couples on the floor with a wave of his hand.

Some of them saw him, and beamed up at the princess with mega-watt smiles. Like that'll magically change her mind.

"No." Julia said, crossing her arms angrily. She knew she was being a brat, but she didn't care. She had begged her parents not to throw this ball, but they had ignored her. As usual. Then they selfishly went out to a different country to talk about business, while she had to sit here and suffer. It wasn't fair.

"But, your majesty-"

"I said, no!" And she got up, and stalked her way over to the bar. Several strangers greeted her, but she blocked them out. Her silver six-inch heels clacked loudly against the marble floor, and once she made it to the stools, she immediately took them off.

"Evening your majesty." a smooth voice said, and she spun around in her seat. There was a tall, slender man standing over her, watching her with large green eyes.

"Err, hi." she tried to ignore him and turn around, but he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It is an honour to meet you, your majesty." he went on, buttering her up like a lobster. Julia shuffled forward in her seat a little bit. She may have be wary, but she loved compliments.

"And such a pleasant surprise it is to. You know," he leaned towards her, whispering lowly into her ear. "Some people were saying how you're just a brat, but I think you're so much more."

Julia's eyes fluttered slightly, threatening to close against his silky words.

"Oh... thank you." she whispered back, completely taken in with his flattery. He flashed her a grin like a shark, his eyes shining brightly. The rumours about herself were completely swept aside, as he cupped her face with his hand and stroked her cheek softly.

"What's your name?" she asked, gazing up at his with her soft cinnamon orbs.

"Clemson." he told her, his voice dripping with sweetness, like honey from a hive.

He leaned forward a tiny bit, closing his eyes expectantly. For a slight second, Julia almost did the same.

But then she remembered what she had thought earlier. About a man who just screws his way into power, and then steals all of your wealth. 

 

She coughed loudly, and pulled away. Clemson opened his eyes in confusion.

"Err..." she thought for a second, struggling to think of an excuse to leave. "Thank you, Clemson. But I have other matters to discuss."

And she got up, and walked awkwardly back to her throne. By the time she got back, Clemson had already left.

She had been fifteen.

 


	4. Finally we're getting a plot

The Olympics. A time when athletes from around the world arrive in one setting and play their respective sport, hoping to bag the world for home.

Also known, in her home village, as the one celebration princess Julia actually enjoyed. She was once again sitting in her throne, in the best seats in the stadium, watching gleefully as the competitors warmed up.

The one hundred metre race was about to start, and Julia couldn't wait. She clutched the sides of her throne excitedly, stopping herself from falling forward onto the track. Her eyes were wide and her silvery-black hair was swept about in the hot summer wind.

Maurice, her right hand man, watched her happily. It was so nice to see the Princess enjoying herself for once, not cooped up in her room or out spending money. She shook a little, and gave a small squeak of impatience.

The gunshot echoed around the stadium, and the racers were off. Julia's jaw dropped as she watched them ran across the track, like swans swim across a lake. Their muscles bulging and twisting as they moved with grace and poise, each man having the chance to win.

They were all neck and neck, until eventually one of them sped ahead at the last minute and crossed the finish line.

Julia let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as the racers slowed down. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, the excitement getting too much for her. She leaned back in her seat and tried to relax.

Oh, how she longed to be on that track. To run beside those athletes, and to maybe have a chance of winning. She was definitely strong enough, with long legs and a history of gymnastics. But alas, her village only let men compete.

And then it hit her. What if she could compete? What if, next year, she disguised herself, and ran in the one hundred metres. Her mind swam with ideas as she argued with herself.

But that was four years away.

The she'd have to practise.

But someone would figure out her plan until then.

Then... then...

She sighed heavily, and slumped further into her seat. It was hopeless, she would never be allowed. Someone tapped her shoulder, and she saw Maurice nod to the stage. The racers were waiting expectantly for her, some looking a bit angry at the winner.

Julia lifted herself off of her throne and made her way down. One of her servants handed her the medals, and she placed them carefully around the winner's neck. The first, second and third place racers smiled gratefully at her, and she felt her anger melt away slightly. Such strong, athletic men...

The rest of the games passed in a bit of a blur. The shot-put, javelin and the hammer were never her forte. She spent the entire time in a daze, with new thoughts racing through her head.

What if... she didn't have to disguise herself? What if... she could enter the games with no hesitation or ridicule? What if... she wasn't Julia?

That night she didn't get any sleep, as she lay awake planning.

She was seventeen.

��1


	5. Okay, this story is actually going somewhere...

Julia lay in her bed, as the doctor paced up and down. She was still out of it from all of the anaesthetic, but the words 'uncanny' and 'unprecedented' kept cropping up.

"Err, 'scuse me?" her asked, his voice wobbling a bit. The doctor spun around, and was immediately by her bedside.

"How are you? Are you feeling okay? Hot? Cold? Hungry? Tired?" Julia shrugged slightly, her body feeling a bit heavy.

"I'm a bit thirsty." The doctor nodded.

"Of course you are. I'll send for the nurse." He reached over, and pulled on a bell above Julia's head. It rang twice, hurting her ears, before falling limply.

"Thank you-" It was then that Julia noticed something different. "My voice! What's wrong with my voice?!"

The doctor nodded, seeming pleased.

"Yes, it's a fine voice for a man." Julia blinked sleepily, not quite hearing him.

"A m- a man?" she asked, and finally looked won at her body.

Her chest was completely flat, and covered with thick bandages. Her legs were shielded from her view with a heavy blanket, but she felt something thick between her legs. The doctor was still talking.

"You've been unconscious for the last two days. We've done the whole procedure, you look exactly like any male." Julia nodded, his words sinking in like a sponge.

"So... have you picked a name?" He asked. She thought for a bit, and then remembered what Maurice had told her last night.

"Julien." She said, sounding a bit unsure. The doctor nodded.

"Well then, Julien. I just have to tell you about cleaning and the safety of your new body, and then you can leave." Julien nodded more enthusiastically. The drugs were starting to wear off, and his whole body ache, but he ignored it as he listened to the doctor talking.

He and Maurice had talked the whole thing through. They'd leave shortly after Julien's twentieth birthday, and move to America, Manhattan. They'd take Mort with them, as much as Julien claimed he didn't like the child, he did take him under his wing as a servant.

He was nineteen.


	6. Silly Pen-glue-win

Julien watched as his new teacher stared at him, looking a bit uncomfortable. Neither of them was used to his new body, and it had come as a bit of a surprise to the language teacher.

"Hello, Julia." Mr Rabinur started, staring anywhere but at the man in front of him.

"Julien." Julien interrupted. Mr Rabinur looked a bit startled.

"Sorry?"

"My name is Julien." The teacher coughed awkwardly into his hand, and looking away.

"So, umm, you want to learn English?" Julien nodded.

"Yes."

"Why?" The older man picked up a glass of water left for him on the counter and took a sip.

"Because I'm leaving." He spluttered loudly, and choked on his drink.

"W-what?!" Julien didn't flinch at his outburst.

"I'm leaving." He repeated. Mr Rabinur stared at him for a while, before sitting down opposite the younger man and opening his bag. His hands shook a bit at the information, but Julien ignored it.

"Let's start then, shall we?" he took out a large book, with words written in a foreign language that Julien didn't recognise.

"This," he explained. "is the Oxford Dictionary. It has all of the words in the English language." Julien nodded.

They got through most of the book pretty easily, as Julien had an extensive memory. But in the middle of the book they hit a bump in the road.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" Julien asked, looking a bit confused.

"Pen-gue-en. A large flightless seabird of the southern hemisphere, with black upper parts and white underparts and wings developed into flippers for swimming under water." The teacher explained.

"Pen... que-"

"No, not 'que', 'gue'."

"Pen...glu-"

"Gu-"

"Pen...ku-"

Mr Rabinur quickly turned the page, his smile looking a bit fixed.

"Let's just move on, shall we?"

"But, shouldn't I learn that word?"

"Nah. It's unlikely to come up in conversation. All penguins live in Antarctica, so you'll probably never meet one."

"Oh. So, they're just flightless birds."

"Yup."

"Okay. What's next?"

He was twenty years old.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Julien quietly closed the door to his apartment behind him, and sneaked downstairs. Skipper, the flightless bird, was having an argument with his roommates, and Julien wanted to be there to listen.

So he opened the cupboard doors in the floor beneath him, and climbed inside. The perfect hiding spot. He left a little crack for him to see out of, and waited for Skipper to come outside.

He was twenty-one years old.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry.  
> Not really NE


End file.
